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I was watching Bo Derek on Oprah last week, and she was talking about what it’s like to be one of the most beautiful women of her time. She said that she lucked out on getting the genes she got, at the time when they resulted in a look that’s revered. The woman has a great point.

She’s tall, naturally thin. Beautiful, right? A few hundred years ago, she would have been considered homely. Back in the day when being plump meant you could afford to eat, my body type was the one that people would have wanted.

I took a DNA test (because I do that sort of craziness), and I found out (among other things) that my body really digs being overweight. I’m having a bitch of a time losing any weight, and I can officially blame genetics. At least for part of it. After all, that’s what causes my body to want to cling to the fat in a cupcake, but that’s not what puts the cupcake in my mouth. (Red velvet with cream cheese frosting… come on, who would turn that down??)

I’m so happy 2011 is finally here. I did mention that 2010 sucked, right? Yeah, I think I did. And it continued sucking to the very end. Seriously, it went out kicking and screaming. And even though I’m starting 2011 with a cold (thanks, Foster) and I’m not a millionaire (boo to the Texas lottery), it’s still better than 2010. I’ve even got some New Year’s resolutions that I think aren’t totally setting myself up for failure.

1) Get organized. Fine, I might be setting myself up for failure with this one. I’m so not organized. I’m messy. Always have been, always will be. But I’m trying. I bought these fabulous storage boxes that slide under my bed, which is where most of my shoes are currently living. There’s space in the closet for the two pairs I wear most often, but the rest will stay tucked away, out of reach of the dog and cat hair and dust that insists on accumulating on everything in our house. I bought one for my purses, too, but I’m yet to determine if there room under the bed for it. I’ve even organized the bathroom, buying nifty red cubes from Ikea to fit into the wire shelf I already had, and a wicker basket that will eventually live on the vanity, holding toothpaste, hair products, moisturizer, etc. It’s slow going, but I’m getting there.

2) Oh, number two. This is the tricky one. Considering the unbelievable amount of issues I had in 2010 with people who have different beliefs than me, I decided it’s time to nip that issue in the bud. But I’m still not sure of what path I’m going to take.

The back story… My oldest friend became a born-again, Evangelical Christian in 2010 after a major break-up. The complete 180 she did threw me, and I didn’t know what to do. So, I did nothing. She told me this was unacceptable. (I thought it was better than saying, “Hey, I think you’ve lost your marbles. You’re just behind Tom Cruise on the path to Crazy Town.” She disagreed.) And then she dumped me, letting me know that it was for my own good, because “the enemy” was working on me and she wanted G_d to be able to step in, allowing me to accept Jesus. Not gonna happen, but I digress. The other major thing is the disagreement I’m in with a family member that stems from me A) inviting her to the Gay Pride Parade, which I didn’t realize was offensive, and B) telling her she should educate herself on Islam before declaring all 1.5 billion Muslims to be anti-American terrorists. This led to her saying I refuse to “let anyone believe their own way”. Yes, I’m so repressive.

Anyways, the point is, these things have caused so much stress in my life. More than I’m okay with. (And do you know what stress allegedly causes? Weight gain. And in my case, copious consumption of chocolates and fried foods.) I need to figure out how to deal with it. My choices are A) agree to disagree with people, and move on, or B) come to terms with the fact that I’m a big ol’ hypocrite who isn’t going to tolerate anyone’s intolerance.

You don’t have to be Einstein to take a guess that I’m likely end up going with Option B.

This year has sucked giant donkey balls. Not that I’ve ever seen actual donkey balls, but I can imagine they aren’t very appetizing.

I was running through the list of reasons why it’s sucked today, and individually they don’t seem so horrible. But when you add it up, it equals misery.

BFF moving away? Check. Second BFF losing her mind and then ending the friendship? Check. Loss of social life? Check. Major weight gain? Check. Milestone birthday plans in the shitter? Check. Loss of a pet (that I keep telling myself could have been prevented if I had more money)? Check.

It’s a string of things that make me feel thankful that I’ve managed to hang on to all of my limbs. So far, at least.

I truly can’t wait for this shittastic, sorry excuse for a year to come to an end. I want to start 2011 on a happy note. Maybe I’ll practice by starting the next entry on a happy note. 😉

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being jubilant and 1 being suicidal, I’m at a 3. I’ve been there for a while. It’s taking so much energy to keep my head above water, to remember to breathe, that trying to lose weight just isn’t on the radar. I’m very aware of the fact that I want to maintain, and not take any steps backwards. But primarily, I just want to get myself to a good place mentally.

And since there’s no one thing that’s happened or one event that’s triggered this, it’s hard to “fix”. Really, there is no fix. I’m trying to remember to take my meds regularly, cuddle with my dogs as often as I can, and get off my sofa as much as possible.

I definitely feel better after socializing, but that’s something that happens so rarely. I work alone, I don’t leave until after dark, Foster has been working 60+ hours a week, and there’s just so much drama happening around me. Drama and crazy schedules and it’s too much.

I’m honestly proud of myself for even thinking about the fact that I need to maintain my weight during this. I know that things will turn around. They always do. (I’ve dealt with depression/anxiety on and off since I was about 12, so I know the drill.) It’s too bad I’m the sort of person who tends to eat away depression instead of starving it away. (Just kidding. Sort of.)

No one’s talking about the three best movies I’ve seen all year. What’s with that?

It’s Kind of a Funny Story with Keir Gilchrist, Emma Roberts, and Zach Galifianakis (who isn’t just there for comic relief). I laughed, I cried, I left the theater feeling like I had just seen movie magic.

Going the Distance with Justin Long and Drew Barrymore. It’s a chick flick, but it’s not. It’s so funny. Like, lose your breath, tears streaming down your face, funny. Sometimes it’s just sweet. It left me wanting to watch Top Gun. (That’ll make sense if you’ve seen it.)

Hereafter with Matt Damon. It might just be the best of all. (Christ, how did Eclipse not make my list??)

If only I could watch them with a giant tub of buttery popcorn and a box of Milk Duds. Nom.

I’ve seen lists all over the internet today of things people are thankful for. Friends, family, poodles … you name it, and people are thankful for it. As much as I’d like to talk about the weirdness of a holiday where we give thanks for taking over a nation and decimating the people who already lived here, I’ll leave that for another day. I might as well follow the trend and be thankful for some things, too.

My dogs. I have the best dogs ever. Gretchen is currently hanging out downstairs, and Sebastian is sleeping next to me. These two are my shadows, and I love them more than most people.

Foster. We have our arguments and bad days, but he remains to be one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. He encourages me and questions me when he thinks I’m doing something half-assed. He might refuse to watch reality TV with me, but I still love him.

My job. Because I have one. Even better, I don’t hate it. Well, sometimes I hate it. But for the most part, I’m doing what I set out to do. It’s not just a job, it’s a career.

Choices. I have them in spades. Maybe not as much as some people (looking at you, Paris Hilton), but I’ve still got an abundance. I can decide to have a kid or not have a kid. I can decide to cut my hair off or stop shaving my legs. I make dozens of choices every day, and a lot of women in the world don’t have that.

Air conditioning. No, seriously. As much as I love antiques and old houses and dresses with corsets and bustles, I love me some air conditioning, and I’m damn thankful to live in the age of technology. The temperature has dropped outside, but I’m still sitting here with the a/c on. Just because I can.

Cymbalta. It allows me to feel sane. I tend to think that drug companies are the devil, but I’ve got to say, my life is so much better because of Cymbalta.

This is the last Thanksgiving in my twenties. Jesus H. Christ. That’s a scary thought. I suppose, though, I should add in that I’m thankful to have made it through. Most of the time, my twenties didn’t feel much easier than my teens. There were just more bills to pay. *wink*

I’m also thankful that I made it through writing this post. Now I have to go pass out, accepting the consequences of eating too much turkey and mashed potatoes. I’m not even going to mention how the dieting is going. Eek. We’ll save that for next time. Let’s just say, the turkey wasn’t the only butterball at the family meal.

Sorry for being MIA lately! I had intended to participate in NaNoWriMo, but that came to a halt when I realized that I wasn’t connecting with my characters. Then along came a serious bout of PMS, which ushered in a mild depression. I’m working on it! In the meantime, go see what I’ve been up to at the other place where I write on a regular basis…

About JWH

Once upon a time, there was a girl who could fit into a junior’s size 7. She maintained a liquid diet, primarily consisting of copious amounts of cheap vodka and sugar free mixers. Then, she met a boy. He gifted her with gummy bears and reintroduced her to the joy of Mexican food. Now, she’s lucky to fit into a size 12 pair of stretch denim jeans, and she’s on a mission to ditch the spandex. (And she promises this is the only place on this blog where she’ll refer to herself in third person. Cross her heart.)